


Maedhros and the Cat

by b_ofdale_archive (b_ofdale)



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: M/M, Maglor makes a small appearance, Post-Rescue from Thangorodrim, not as sad as a post-thangorodrim fic featuring maedhros probably should be
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-16
Updated: 2016-10-16
Packaged: 2018-08-19 21:03:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8224721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/b_ofdale/pseuds/b_ofdale_archive
Summary: Fingon finds a cat—who better than Maedhros to take care of it?





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Thetimetrick](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thetimetrick/gifts).



> I CAN FINALLY FOLLOW YOU ON TUMBLR!!
> 
> Since you wanted something happy, I thought it'd be nice to write something with a cat ~~because I _obviously_ don't like to include cats in my fics whenever I get the chance~~ so I checked your blog to see if you liked cats and I was very happy to see yOU HAVE LOTS OF CAT REBLOGS TAGGED AS 'HAPPY TAG' so this thing here happened. ~~Cats make everything better.~~
> 
> I didn't manage to write something completely happy but at least there's no Crippling Maedhros Angst™
> 
> I meant to write a Gen fic about Maedhros and Elrond and Elros (and a cat, yes), but after getting stuck at 500 words on two different stories, I went for something shippy instead. I saw there were some russingon posts on your blog, and you were open to any ship, so I hope it's fine! ;w;
> 
> So anyway I'm done rambling, here we go! :D
> 
> (I'm terrible at summaries (and titles sometimes) in case you didn't notice)

“What’s this?”

“A surprise.”

Maedhros stared at the squirming bundle of cloth in Fingon’s hands, which had been just presented to him.

He was still in bed, wearing a simple tunic and his hair falling loose down his back and shoulders in a mess. The night had been a sweet one, though often he had woken up to hold Fingon closer; Fingon was meant to leave later today, and no one could know for how long he would be gone, or if he would come back at all. 

The world wasn’t as soft as it had once been under the light of the trees in Valinor.

“Take it,” Fingon said, gently.

“No,” said Maedhros, then requested, though he thought he might know the answer, “Tell me what it is first.”

“Very well,” Fingon sighed, and rolled his eyes at Maedhros’ stubbornness, though there was still a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Slowly, he unfolded the cloth, revealing a ball of black and golden fur. A small, broken meow followed, and green eyes met his.

Maedhros glared up at Fingon.

“You’re not serious,” he said.

“Oh, but I am,” Fingon laughed, holding the animal closer to his chest. “I found her lurking in the streets. She’ll keep you company until I come back.”

The kitten was famished and dirty. It wasn’t afraid, merely looking for the warmth Fingon provided him. How unsurprising of his cousin to take pity of it, but Maedhros didn’t want a companion— _couldn’t_ have one.

“I can’t take care of it,” Maedhros protested.

“You can, of course you can.”

“I don’t know how.”

“I’ll show you how, and you will. Please,” Fingon said, sitting by Maedhros’ side. “If not for you, do it for me.”

Maedhros stared some more, before sighing and slowly nodding. There was no harm in feeding a cat every day, was it? 

Besides, there was little he could deny Fingon.

“Come on, take her,” Fingon insisted, smiling.

“No,” Maedhros said. “I’ll break it.”

There was something sad in Fingon’s eyes as Maedhros said those words, and he shut them for a second, before shaking his head.

When he opened them again, he lay a kind gaze on Maedhros.

“You won’t,” Fingon said softly. “I promise.”

Maedhros shook his head as well, and they sat in silence, Fingon stroking short, soft circles under the cat’s chin with one hand, the other squeezing Maedhros’ before returning to the kitten. 

“She looks a bit like me, don’t you think?” Fingon said then, holding up the kitten close to his head, who rubbed the side of its face against Fingon’s cheek.

Maedhros cracked a smile at the sight. Only Fingon could still get that from him. “She does,” he said.

“Ah!” Fingon said. “She has nothing to fear, then.”

And at that, he placed the kitten on Maedhros’ lap. Maedhros meant to protest, but he was caught by how small and fragile this mortal being looked, and so he said nothing.

He glanced at Fingon, unsure of what to do.

Maedhros had forgotten what softness was long ago; it had taken long for him to get used to Fingon’s again, and his hands were so large, and the cat was so little. 

When he looked down again, the kitten was drowsing where it sat. Tentatively, he reached out and, with the tips of two of his fingers, rubbed under her ear. She opened her eyes, leant into the touch, and emitted a light rumbling sound. 

What a strange creature.

“See,” Fingon murmured. “You are everything she needs, and you will not hurt her.”

Maedhros breathed deep. “Alright. For you, I will try.”

A smile brightened Fingon’s face, and he leant forwards to kiss the corner of Maedhros’ mouth. 

“What will you call her?”

Maedhros thought for a moment, watching the kitten try to catch a lock of his hair. 

“You said she looked like you,” he said. “What about Vika?”

Fingon nodded. “I think it suits her well.” 

Together they washed her, fed her, and played with her until she yawned and fell asleep between them; it was simple, and Maedhros loved simple things more than he’d care to admit, for they were rare and precious, though it was no secret to Fingon.

Fingon left later that morning, after a kiss to Maedhros’ lips and an ‘I love you’ whispered to his ear. 

At any other time, the room would have felt empty, as though it would have lost any semblance of life and light it might have had when Fingon shared it with him.

But today, there was no silence in the path of Fingon’s departure; instead there was a sweet purr, and warmth by his side.

 

*

“I miss him already,” Maedhros was saying a few days later, as he lay on the bed, Vika on his chest. She looked right into his eyes like she was listening, undeterred by how she rose and fell with Maedhros’ every breath. “I am no good without him.”

Maedhros grimaced when she started malaxing his skin, her claws almost digging into his flesh. It felt like her way of saying she didn’t agree. 

He had never been one for talking, much less so about his feelings, not to his brothers nor even himself; yet Maedhros had quickly found himself sharing his thoughts with Vika. Perhaps it was because he was sure someone was listening, and only listening.

He didn’t think more of it, and fell asleep as soon as dreams came to claim him.

For the first few months, Maedhros kept Vika in his room, which was big enough for her, given her small size. By the time her first year came, she was strong and healthy, and eager to go out. 

“Since when is there a cat here,” Maglor asked the first day Maedhros let Vika leave the room, as she sat before him while he played his instrument. One might have believed she was enjoying his songs and music—though really, who wouldn’t. 

“Fingon found her,” Maedhros told him, and Maglor didn’t seem surprised. “He asked me to take care of her, that is why she’s here.”

“I have no power over whether or not she can stay, of course, but if I did, I’d say she can, for at least _she_ pays attention to my music,” Maglor said this lightly, without any heat in his words, making Maedhros roll his eyes before he went wherever he was needed. 

Vika became well known in Himring, but Maedhros’ room was always her home, and she always spent the night there, and often followed Maedhros wherever he went. And so when he walked paths he used to wander alone, there was now someone by his side, and she might not have talked, nor laughed, nor cried, but it was a presence that he got to know well, and he took great comfort in it.

She sat on the table when he met with visitors, on the tub when he bathed, on the desk when he wrote letters that took long to finish; rarely was he alone anymore.

And she stole bites of food from his plate when he wasn’t looking.

As time passed, Vika often rubbed at his stump and licked it, as well as his wounds, and stayed close to him when nights were rough, as though offering comfort, and Maedhros came to wonder if Fingon had really wanted him to take care of her, and not the other way around. 

“This was all Fingon’s plan, wasn’t it?” Maedhros wondered aloud, years after his cousin’s departure. He thought of this, and then he realized, “I didn’t thank him. He is so good to me, and I didn’t thank him.” 

And so Maedhros wrote to Fingon, like he often did, no matter how little he had to say. 

When Vika disappeared for a few days, Maedhros got more worried than he’d ever thought he would over a creature whose life was so ephemeral. But perhaps that was why; when time is so short, one tends to cherish it more. 

Eventually Vika came back, and when she did she spent the whole night over and against Maedhros’ shoulder, licking away the tears he shed in silence that night. 

There were many things he had thought of while she was gone, and the shortness of her life was only one of them, though he had accepted it from the very first days.

An important thing he had understood was how one who lived a short life could do more good than one who lived longer, and be worth just as much. 

But he had also wondered what he would tell Fingon, when he returned.

Maedhros missed his cousin more and more as time passed, no matter how he tried to keep himself busy—or how the Enemy did it for him. It was too often that one didn’t realize how important someone was until they were taken away. This Maedhros had understood long ago, and as he lay alone again those nights without Vika, he realized all the more how each day passed without Fingon felt like one they were losing. 

Maedhros never knew where she had gone to, nor did he care now that she was home and safe; but there was another thing he would rather have forgotten, that he remembered because of it. Fingon, just like Vika, could disappear without any warning, and never come back. He couldn’t escape that possibility. No one could. 

 

*

Fingon entered the room quietly. Inside, it was dark, but the moon shone upon the bed through the open window. There lay Maedhros, a full grown cat snuggling against his side.

The cat was staring at him, wide eyes following Fingon’s every movement as he undressed, then climbed onto the bed.

“Finno?” Maedhros’ voice rose in a murmur, still rough from sleep. 

Fingon took his stump between his hands, like he did every time he came home—back to Maedhros.

“Yes,” he said back, quietly. “So it is true that you’ve replaced me. I am deeply offended.”

“I could never,” Maedhros said, cracking a small smile, and he rose on his elbows so he could kiss Fingon’s lips. “Days were longer without you, but she made a good companion.”

Fingon smiled, and softly kissed him back. 

He got under the covers then, entwining his legs with Maedhros’, and rested his head on the pillow, facing him so that their eyes could meet and not leave each other’s. 

Between them Vika stirred, and came to rest above their heads, where she was quick to fall asleep again, undisturbed, if not contented, by the two souls who had found each other again.

**Author's Note:**

> Vika is (apparently??) the Quenya for Valiant? I have no idea if Fingon was already called the Valiant at the time (I still have a lot to learn haha), which would explain why Maedhros called her that way. It didn't sound bad so I thought I'd give her that name :3
> 
> I hope you liked it!! <3  
> Comments (and Kudos) are greatly appreciated! :D


End file.
